Beacon Hills
by aporia97
Summary: Summary: There's rumors going around concerning werewolf attacks, and it's up to Sam and Dean to stop them...and maybe go undercover in a certain Californian high school. Teen Wolf characters included, though watching TW isn't vital.


Summary: There's rumors going around concerning werewolf attacks, and it's up to Sam and Dean to stop them...and maybe go undercover in a certain Californian high school.

Includes characters from Teen Wolf, though watching TW isn't vital. All you need to know: Scott and Derek are werewolves. Stiles is Scott's friend. Mostly a piece of cake, but it's a heckuva lot more confuzzling than that.

No slash. If there are any pairings, they're minor. And *gulp* I've only watched four episodes of Supernatural...so my facts might be a little off. I had to do a lot of wiki reading to get to know the super basics. Please don't hate me.

* * *

The apartment that the two brothers had rented was small and cluttered. Various dishes, newspaper clippings and magazines obscured all the surfaces in the house.

Sam blamed it on Dean.

Sighing, he opened the snack cupboard and scanned the shelves of cereal. _Fruit loops? Since when do we have fruit loops?_

Shrugging, Sam pulled the box out and poured a generous amount into a plastic bowl. He sat down on the couch, reaching for the nearby newspaper.

The headline was bold and instantly grabbed Sam's attention as he skimmed the newspaper.

**MYSTERIOUS SERIES OF MURDERS IN BEACON HILLS**

Sam's brows creased as he read and reread the title. Dropping his spoon, he turned to call over his shoulder.

"Hey! Dean! C'mere for a second!"

The voice that floated in from the other room was drowsy. "Wha'?"

Dean slouched into the kitchen -he'd obviously just woken up. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and his eye twitched slightly. He seemed to be wearing the same clothes he'd worn the night before; a leather jacket and dark jeans.

"Wow. What kept _you _up last night?" Sam asked in amazement as he took in Dean's haggard appearance. "You're wasted, Houdini." He tutted in mocking sympathy as his brother gave him the evil eye.

"Couldn't sleep," Dean muttered, plopping down on the couch next to Sam.

Sam shrugged. "Whatever. Here, take a look at this." He passed the paper to Dean, who squinted as he read the headline and skimmed the rest of the article.

As he reached the bottom, he looked back up at Sam. "What do you think?" Sam asked him. "They said it was some kind of animal, like a mountain lion..." he gestured to the black-and-white photo of the mauled girl, tapping the bite marks. "Werewolves?"

Dean nodded and his expression was now fully sober. "Werewolves," he agreed. "We're going undercover, bro. Beacon Hills High."

* * *

"Look. New kids." Stiles nodded towards the two kids who stood by their school lockers. They definitely were too old to be in high school -maybe they'd been held back a few grades. "Worth talking to?"

Scott shrugged as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and shut his locker with a bang. "Worth listening to." He paused, cocking his head towards the two guys. One of them, a toned guy with hard features, was talking to the other.

"...Cool. Act totally calm," the guy told the other. "Remember, I'm Dean Palmer. You're -"

"Sam Palmer," the other cut in. He was younger, maybe by a few years, and he had tan skin and dark hair. "We're first cousins." He took a steady breath. "We got this. Just gotta find -"

"Shush," Dean interjected, punching his 'cousin' lightly on the arm. "Not too loud." He glanced around, and his eye immediately rested on Scott.

Scott glanced away and turned back to Stiles, positioning himself so the two new guys couldn't see his face. "They're definitely not in high school," he told Stiles in a low undertone. "I think they're trouble."

He emphasized the word '_trouble'_ and Stiles's mouth morphed into an 'o'. He shook his head, grabbing his arm and leading him into the throng of students. "Not good, Scott. _Not good." He grimaced. "Stay as far away from them as possible. I'll do the talking."_

As it turned out, 'staying away' was nearly impossible. The four were in nearly every class together, and by the time lunch rolled around, he was positive that the two were werewolf hunters.

"So."

Stiles jumped as he heard the voice of Dean, one of the new guys, behind him. Dean and Sam positioned themselves on either side of him and he gulped. Across the table, Scott tried, and failed, to send him a sly _oh-shit-what-do-we-do_ look. Stiles bit his lip.

"Hey, guys," Stiles told the two in an unmanly high-pitched tone. "Dean and Sam, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. You don't mind us sitting with you, do you?"

Oddly enough, the two were only looking at Stiles. _He's the werewolf, _he wanted to accuse, pointing a finger at Scott. He swallowed the instinct.

"Nah," he said, waving a hand. "Not at all. How's high school?"

_Lame, _Stiles berated himself, but didn't voice the thought.

"Great," Sam answered. "For once. Very productive."

He was still studying Stiles's face. Stiles didn't even notice the tiny metal bracelet the Dean slipped out of his pocket on the other side of him.

He didn't even feel it when Dean pressed the bracelet to the side of his arm.

Two seconds passed, and after the third the cousins simultaneously stood up. "Nice chatting with you," Dean told the two. "See you around."

"Yeah..." Scott began, but before either knew it, they were gone.

* * *

"So we can cross Stiles Stalinsky off our list. No silver allergies for him," Dean muttered to Sam as they moved away from the pair's table. "Along with three other students. Only...what? About seven hundred and ninety-seven kids to go?"

"Unless the werewolf's a teacher," Sam reminded him. "Or not at this school at all."

"It has to be," Dean huffed. "All the evidence points here. All the murders tie back into this school. If it's not, I'll be so frustrated I'll shoot myself."

"Someone's gonna bring you back from the dead if you do," Sam reasoned, and Dean glared.

"Way to ruin my pity party."

The bell rung, signaling the end of their lunch. Dean winced at the noise.

Sam froze. "Dean. Look. Three o'clock -McCall."

Dean looked behind him.

McCall's features were scrunched up as if he were in pain. A hand was clapped over one ear -the other held his lunch tray.

Sam grinned. "Looks like we found our werewolf."

Dean shook his head in remorse. "Who would've thought...pity. I kinda was beginning to like the kid."

Sam turned back to his brother. "When are we getting him?" He murmured, moving away from McCall.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Tonight."

* * *

This is going to be a pretty hastily written out story, so sorry if the chapters are sudden/short/confusing. PM me if you have questions, and review!


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